


'cause i know that it's delicate

by tmylm



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Dating, F/F, First Time, Fluff, Religion, Smut, bechloe - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:07:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28946397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmylm/pseuds/tmylm
Summary: Prompt:Bechloe story where it’s Beca’s first time with Chloe but it’s Beca’s first time ever as she works though breaking away from religious ideologies and being ok in a gay relationship. Chloes super sweet about it.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 39
Kudos: 147





	'cause i know that it's delicate

**Author's Note:**

> Mentions of religion and self-conflict.
> 
> Fic title from Taylor Swift's _Delicate_.

Despite the fact that, realistically, it has been going on for months now, this thing with Chloe, whatever it may be, is still so new to Beca. It is so strange, so conflicting to her on so many deep and personal levels, because something that feels so right, so natural and _normal_ to her now, is something she has spent her whole life hearing is so incredibly _wrong_.

And Beca doesn’t really know what this even is, she doesn’t know if she and Chloe are dating (they’re totally dating), since neither has ever explicitly said so, she just knows that they have fallen into a routine where it is always just the two of them sharing private moments and undiscussed time together, the kind that Beca doesn’t dare to talk about aloud, but that she has come to anticipate, to enjoy more than anything she has ever experienced throughout her life thus far.

And Beca is supposed to think that that is wrong, too.

It is routine to them now, sitting across from one another at a quiet restaurant far enough away from campus to not run into anyone they might know. They both wear pretty dresses—in her opinion, Chloe’s is always prettier than Beca’s—and offer quiet compliments back and forth, feet brushing against bare legs beneath the table, then they find themselves back here, back at the Bellas house with Chloe’s lips pushing delicately to Beca’s, until they are falling into bed together, and then things just...trail off.

And Beca knows that it is her fault, that she stops this from going any further each time Chloe’s fingers coast gently down her side to eventually slip beneath the fabric of her dress, but more so than ever lately Beca just...she doesn’t want to stop this. But when a heated makeout session is littered with a nagging voice in her head, one that sounds suspiciously like her bishop father’s, telling her that this is wrong, that it is nothing but an ungodly sin, Beca cannot help but listen to it. And she hates herself for it, she truly does, but _wrong_ and _bad_ are the only words Beca has ever known associated with this, with two women touching one another, with feeling the things Beca feels for Chloe Beale. It is a conflicting thought, a conflicting _feeling_ , and it is one Beca is terrified to truly address.

Fortunately, Chloe has been nothing but respectful from the start. She has never pushed Beca, never even questioned why she won’t let this go any further than it already has, to the point where Chloe doesn’t even try anymore. She doesn’t try to trail her short, neatly painted nails over Beca’s body; she keeps her palm settled delicately against the back of Beca’s neck, other hand tangling her fingers through Beca’s, and Beca knows that, realistically, even that is too far, but Chloe is just too tempting, too much for her to _not_.

It is entirely unsurprising to Beca that tonight is progressing much like every other when they have the house to themselves. As usual, they barely make it through Chloe’s bedroom door before Chloe’s hand is grasping lightly at Beca’s hip, until Beca is willingly twisting her body into the safety that is Chloe’s, and their lips are easily finding their way to one another’s. Her eyes flutter shut and her hand drops to settle over Chloe’s, fingers tangling so naturally together, with her free arm wrapping tightly around Chloe’s waist to tug her familiar body tightly into her own. Chloe’s other hand rises to settle beneath Beca’s fallen curls, fingertips brushing feather lightly over the back of her neck, until Chloe has begun to lead them blindly toward the bed.

Every evening with Chloe, every not-date (totally a date), is just as perfect as the last, but there has been something particularly nice about the one tonight. There was a childlike excitement in Chloe’s eyes, a specific sense of wonder, as Beca talked about her internship and how things seem to be on an upward trajectory that made Beca want to lean across the table to kiss her, to show her appreciation for Chloe’s sheer, unbridled support. In spite of everything, Chloe is everything Beca wants, everything she feels she really doesn’t deserve, so she holds her that little bit tighter now as Chloe slowly dips her back against the mattress, and Beca’s eyes darken as Chloe eventually peels herself away.

She doesn’t move far, only enough to separate their lips from one another’s, and for Beca to stare up at the softened expression on Chloe’s face through the fan of her lashes, to take in the small, natural smile on her lips before her head is ducking to brush another soft, chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth.

And Beca doesn’t know if it is the particularly nice evening, or the fact that she has been urging herself so strongly to hold back until now. All Beca knows is that she wants more of Chloe tonight than she has ever allowed herself before, and the thought both terrifies and excites her in a way that Chloe, gaze studying Beca’s face with a subtle look of questioning as Beca’s thigh pushes its way between Chloe’s legs, seems to note.

“What are you doing?” Chloe whispers as Beca’s hand lifts to cup the back of Chloe’s neck with curled fingers. There is a hint of a lopsided smirk on her lips as she studies Beca’s face, and Beca finds her gaze moving between that same subtle smirk and Chloe’s sparkling, questioning eyes, before daring herself to finally respond.

“I…” she pauses briefly, tongue flickering out between the part in her lips to add a little moisture. “I want you, Chlo.” The volume of Beca’s voice is soft and low, almost secretive sounding. “I just don’t know if I’m allowed.”

At that, neatly styled auburn brows tug together, and the smirk on Chloe’s lips fades to something a little more neutral. “What?” she asks, bringing the hand from behind Beca’s neck to coast the pad of her thumb softly over the apple of Beca’s cheek. “Of course you’re allowed. Bec, I thought you knew that, when it comes to me, you’re allowed anything.”

Although Chloe’s words, so gentle and reassuring, sink through Beca in a way that makes her heart flutter in the most familiar way, she eventually responds with a small shake of her head. “That’s not what I meant.”

While she stares at her a moment longer, ocean blue eyes searching Beca’s face for any obvious answer, Chloe eventually questions in that same curious tone, “Then what _do_ you mean?”

“Um,” Beca pauses, and as she begins to push herself upright, Chloe easily complies, until she is twisting to seat herself on the bed beside Beca. And that is really Chloe all over: kind, understanding, eager to let Beca talk and to really learn what is going through her mind. It is something Beca appreciates beyond measure, even if the topic at hand does serve to terrify her beyond belief. Beca instinctively lifts a hand to push a fallen brunette curl behind her ear. “I never told you about my dad, right?”

While Chloe’s brow lifts a fraction—Beca gets it; who would want to think about their parents at a time like this?—she responds with a small shake of her head, and stays silent in dutiful anticipation of further explanation.

“He’s, uh,” Beca pauses, hesitating for a moment. Her family, her religion, it is not something Beca talks about, and it shames her to admit that it is because she is not exactly proud of any of it. It is not like every member of the church thinks the same way as the others—Beca being the perfect example—but considering Beca is one of the very minor few in her home community, she feels like she is betraying everybody else somehow. Beca harbors a lot of self-hatred, a lot of confusion and resentment toward both the church and herself, so this is a hard topic for her. But Chloe is looking at her with the kindest eyes, and Beca knows that, beneath that familiar stare, she truly is so incredibly safe. “He’s the bishop,” she continues, breaking her gaze from Chloe’s briefly. “I kind of grew up with him preaching how this kind of thing isn’t okay.”

She chances a glance toward Chloe, and while Beca expects to see widened eyes or some indication of judgment, it is almost unsurprising to her that she doesn’t. Chloe would never judge her, and deep down, Beca knows that. Instead, she only watches her with those same kind eyes, so Beca dares herself to go on.

“I guess I fought this for a while,” she swallows in an effort to add some much needed moisture to her throat, and Beca is once again back to intentionally not meeting Chloe’s stare. “This, between me and you. Because I’m not supposed to want it, I’m not supposed to want you… But I do, Chlo. And I’m kind of battling with myself about what I know is right and what I’ve been taught is wrong.” She puffs out a small, dry chuckle. “I know it sounds really stupid, I—”

Before Beca gets to continue, Chloe cuts in with a small shake of her head. “No, it doesn’t. It doesn’t sound stupid, Bec.” At the sound of Chloe’s soft voice, Beca’s gaze instinctively drifts toward her, and she takes in the most comfortingly sincere expression on her face. “That’s what you know, it’s what you were taught. And I may not know too much about religion myself, especially not your family’s particular religion, but I don’t think it’s stupid.”

“You don’t?” Beca questions in a quieter voice than intended.

“I don’t,” Chloe shakes her head again gently. “I do know that I don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, though. I think it’s something that you have to work through, and you have to figure out for yourself.”

“Yeah,” Beca says with another dry chuckle, “I’ve kind of been doing that this whole time.”

“And have you?” Chloe prompts softly. “Figured anything out?”

Once more, Beca’s tongue flickers out to lick over her dry lips. “I don’t know. I know that I’m going against everything I know, but that this can’t be the ‘sin’,” she air-quotes the word, “that it’s supposed to be. Because it just doesn’t...I don’t know, _feel_ wrong. You know?”

“I do,” Chloe assures with a soft, reassuring nod of her head. “I know how I feel about you, and I know that that definitely doesn’t feel wrong. And I think I know how you feel about me, too.”

Beca only nods, choosing not to correct her the way she feels like she should, because the fact of the matter is, Chloe is right. They may not have said so, they may not have even put a label on whatever this is between them, but Beca knows how she feels about Chloe, and she knows that, realistically, Chloe knows it, too.

“I want you,” Beca repeats, and she hears the uncharacteristic sense of certainty in her tone. “All of you.”

“And you know that you can have me, Bec,” Chloe responds, offering Beca a small, genuine smile. “When you’re ready, you can have me.”

It doesn’t take any further thought, no further inner battle, for Beca to say without hesitation, “I’m ready.”

While Chloe’s head tilts slightly at that, she studies Beca’s face carefully for a moment. “What are you ready for?”

It feels kind of stupid to her, the fact that Beca cannot verbalize her desires, so instead of forcing herself to do so, she stretches out a hand to grasp gently at the chest of Chloe’s dress, using the hold to move herself closer, until she can press her lips firmly to Chloe’s. Of course, Chloe reciprocates, until her hand has found its way to the dip of Beca’s waist, long fingers delicately curling to rest comfortably against her side.

Chloe used to make the first move, she used to be the one to try to further their kissing along, but it doesn’t surprise Beca that she doesn’t now. And as terrifying as the idea of doing so herself is to Beca, she also appreciates Chloe’s willingness to wait, to not push Beca further than she is able to go, so it is Beca who drops her hand this time, until her fingertips are slipping beneath the loose, floaty fabric of Chloe’s purple dress.

“Are you sure?” Chloe questions in a hushed tone as she pulls just far enough back from Beca’s lips for their gazes to lock, with Chloe quietly searching Beca’s eyes. “You want to keep going?”

Normally, the question would cause Beca to pause, to hesitate and think over her response. It is not like everything she has ever learned could just fall away in the blink of an eye, but that is not the case. This has been years of questioning, months of it solely with Chloe, so the sure nod of Beca’s head now is not without its past deliberation, and Beca takes comfort in the quiet reassurance of Chloe’s steady, vibrant stare.

“Bec, have you ever...done this before?” Chloe presses gently, and Beca knows there is no judgment to her question. She simply wants to check, wants to make sure that Beca feels safe. “I mean, obviously not with a girl. But, like, ever?”

“No,” Beca admits almost sheepishly, though she makes no effort to move away from Chloe. Her hand rests comfortably on the smooth surface of Chloe’s thigh, and although she doesn’t want her to, she expects Chloe to recoil, to quickly pull away.

She doesn’t, though. Of course she doesn't, because that is not Chloe Beale. Instead, she quietly scans Beca’s face, carefully takes in her expression, before tipping her face forward to delicately capture Beca’s lips with her own. “Then we take this at your pace,” she whispers into the small kiss, gentle grip on Beca’s hip tightening until she can tug her body toward her own. To her own surprise, Beca easily lets her, leg instinctively moving to straddle Chloe’s thighs. Chloe pulls back then, looking up at Beca whose position has now given her the height between them, with a certain sureness that serves to calm Beca's racing heart. “I want you, Beca. But I want you on your terms.”

Beca only nods in response, searching Chloe’s eyes a moment longer, finding her natural comfort in them, before her hands are rising to delicately cup rosy cheeks, and soon she is ducking her face to push parted lips against Chloe’s, this time with no intention of moving away.

Chloe’s hand, the one curled around Beca’s waist, drops to run her fingers lightly over Beca’s side, until they are coasting along her outer thigh, then inching slowly beneath the skirt of her dress. While Beca’s skin prickles beneath her touch, she makes no effort to stop her—she doesn’t even _want_ to stop her—and in turn, Beca’s arms circle around Chloe’s neck, until she is tightening them to pull Chloe’s body flush against her own.

Almost as if they are so effortlessly in sync, Beca’s hips lift until she is kneeling above Chloe’s waist, lips parting to brush her tongue steadily along the seam in Chloe’s lips. Chloe’s hands, deft and confident, begin to travel up Beca’s sides beneath her dress, until they are forced to part only for Chloe to cautiously lift the garment from Beca’s body. For her part, Beca lifts her arms to help her out of it, to show her she really is okay with this progression of events, before she reaches down with shaky hands to tug at Chloe’s dress, too. Slowly, perhaps because Chloe is afraid of taking things too far before Beca gets the chance to stop her, she helps Beca to peel it off, until they are seated in only their underwear, Beca straddling Chloe’s thighs and Chloe tilting her face upward to reconnect their lips.

“You’re so beautiful, Beca,” Chloe murmurs into the kiss, one hand placed down on the mattress to steady herself, while the other splays against the warm skin of Beca’s back. Beca notes the way it begins to inch upward, until Chloe’s fingers are hovering with distinct caution over the clasp of her bra.

“It’s okay,” Beca whispers against her lips, head nodding gently to urge her to go on, until Chloe is pinching at the clasp, the newly loose straps effectively falling down her shoulders. Beca is the one to peel it off entirely, and her head tilts accommodatingly as Chloe begins to trail soft, open-mouthed kisses toward her jaw.

Beca shivers beneath her touch, but it is not a bad shiver, it is the kind that is laced with anticipation as Chloe’s lips pepper lingering kisses down the side of her exposed neck, until they are coasting over the hill of her breast. She cannot resist the urge to glance downward as full lips part to wrap gently around a pebbled nipple, and Beca reacts with a shuddering inward breath as her own hands slide behind Chloe’s back, fumbling with the clasp of her bra now, too.

Although Chloe reaches up to peel it off, carelessly tossing it aside in the process, she never moves her lips from Beca’s chest. The flat of her tongue experimentally brushes over a stiffening nipple, until the tip is pointing to flicker cautiously against it, and Beca’s breath catches in her throat.

“Is this okay?” Chloe questions in a hushed tone as she pulls back to stare up at Beca with darkened eyes. While one hand cups gently at her opposite breast, the other has found its way to the smooth skin of Beca’s back again, and her fingertips trail gently along the surface, drawing soothing lines in their path.

“Yeah,” Beca promises, breathing a little more ragged already, even more so as the pad of Chloe’s thumb coasts lightly over the hardened peak of her nipple. It is not with fear nor apprehension, though. Honestly, the feeling of Chloe’s hands on her, her lips worshipping her breast so expertly yet so delicately, has left Beca only wanting more. “Keep going.”

Despite herself, Chloe struggles to pull back the soft smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth, and Beca cannot quite help mirroring it as Chloe’s lips eagerly seek out her own again. Just like always, they are in sync with one another's movements, until Chloe’s arm is wrapping around Beca’s upper back, holding her naked torso closely against her own. And a part of Beca knows that she should be freaking out, there should be an unwelcome voice in her head yelling at her that this is not okay, but it is nowhere to be found as she loses herself in the safety, the comfort that is Chloe Beale.

Beca’s knees arch until her feet are crossing on the mattress behind Chloe’s back, and while she goes to rest her hand in its usual position against Chloe’s neck, she instead settles it against the back of her head, fingers bunching through auburn curls. This time, Beca is the one to part her lips and eagerly deepen the kiss as Chloe’s other hand drops between them to run her fingertips feather lightly over Beca’s tensed abdomen.

While Beca’s free hand plants against the mattress to steady herself, Chloe keeps her body closely pressed to her own, the hand between them falling to dip her fingertips cautiously beneath the waistband of Beca’s cotton panties.

Beca senses a certain hint of hesitation as Chloe’s breathing grows faster, too. And she knows this isn’t all about her, that it is very much about Chloe as well, but she wants to reassure her, to let her know that, on her part, this is okay. Honestly, although life has taught her that it shouldn't, nothing feels more okay. And it is a new feeling to Beca, but one that she chooses not to ignore. “Keep going,” Beca whispers breathily against her lips, hips instinctively rising in a hint for more. “I promise it’s okay.”

It seems that Chloe doesn’t need telling twice, considering the way she pulls back from Beca’s mouth to rest her forehead gently against Beca’s, before her hand pushes further downward until her middle finger is brushing lightly through aching folds.

The first touch, so new but so eagerly anticipated, causes Beca’s breath to hitch, though she eagerly accepts the familiar feeling of Chloe’s lips pushing to her own again, before her finger dips to Beca’s dripping center.

“You’re so wet,” Chloe breathes unsteadily, a second finger now sliding against her to push small, tighter circles into Beca’s swollen clit. Beca only responds with a quiet whimper, the fingers in Chloe’s hair tightening some, while her lips push more firmly, more surely, against Chloe’s.

Once she is sure Beca is okay with the gentle rhythm, Chloe’s fingers pick up their speed, and soon their kisses grow punctured as Chloe’s hand drops to brush one finger experimentally through Beca’s arousal, the tip pushing slowly inside of her. Beca whimpers in appreciation, until Chloe’s finger sinks the whole way in, then moves back out to drag a little more firmly over her now neglected clit.

It is instinct for Beca’s hips to move in a steady, synchronized rhythm with Chloe’s expertly moving fingers as they slide effortlessly through slick folds. Her straightened back arches slightly as the speed picks up, until she is unable to hold back the quiet moan rising from the back of her throat.

Beca has no prior experience to compare this to, but she assumes it is not exactly uncharacteristic for Chloe to talk, so it doesn’t surprise her when she whispers unsteadily against her lips that she _sounds so good_ , and Beca only moans again involuntarily as Chloe’s finger proceeds to sink inside of her, pad of her thumb circling her swollen clit as her wrist arches to pump her finger at a faster pace.

Although she attempts to continue pushing eager kisses to Chloe’s lips, Beca's body is reacting in a way that deems it impossible to do so in any uniform fashion, but Chloe doesn’t seem to mind. She only whimpers herself as Beca’s mouth rests against her own, a series of quiet moans and desperate whines falling from her lips in response to Chloe’s faster, more deliberate movements pulling her closer and closer to her peak.

In an effort to assist her movements, the hand resting around the top of Beca’s back falls until Chloe can clutch gently at her slender waist, using the new hold to move Beca’s body in time with her fingers, until Beca comes through a strained moan and ragged breathing. Chloe instantly slows her fingers until they are brushing so lightly against Beca that she almost begs her to go again.

Realistically, though, Beca is at her limit for now, and as Chloe slips her hand from inside of her soaked panties, Beca kneels upward on unsteady legs to grasp at Chloe’s flushed cheeks, soft whimpered sounds spilling out as she pushes her lips hungrily, messily to Chloe’s. Her weakened body trembles through her orgasm, and there is something so comforting about the way Chloe’s protective arms wind tightly around her back, so carefully holding her close.

They part from one another’s lips for Beca to rest her sticky forehead to Chloe’s, and while her eyes remain closed for a moment as she attempts to regulate her breathing, they eventually flutter open to find Chloe’s hooded gaze studying her, watching her in a way that makes Beca feel so safe and so protected at the same time. And Beca realizes that this...it can't be wrong.

Chloe doesn’t push anything, she doesn’t move Beca from her lap or try to flip their positions. And Beca wants to reciprocate, she really does, she just isn’t sure if she has the guts to do so just yet, but Chloe doesn’t seem to mind. She only pushes soft, delicate kisses to Beca’s lips at untimed intervals, and it is clear that this is still very much all on Beca’s terms.

“Do you want me to, um…” Beca starts in a shaky voice, feeling as though she really _should_ at least offer, though Chloe cuts her off with a gentle shake of her head. Kind, familiar eyes stare up at her, and a soft, reassuring smile stretches onto kiss-swollen lips.

“It’s okay,” Chloe promises in a quiet, sincere voice. “One step at a time.”

As bad as Beca feels, she knows that Chloe is not judging, that she would never push Beca to more than she feels capable of, and Beca’s unintentionally tensed shoulders relax under the needed reassurance.

“You’re amazing, Chloe,” Beca murmurs as her eyes flutter naturally shut again, fingertips gently brushing over the warm skin of Chloe’s rosy cheeks.

“So are you,” Chloe responds, softly nudging the tip of her nose to Beca’s. Beca’s wrinkles in response, though she lets out of a soft, breathy chuckle in time for Chloe’s next whispered words. “Bec, I’m so grateful that you trust me.”

At that, Beca pulls back only far enough to sweep her softened gaze over Chloe’s face, taking in the sincerity in her expression. “I do,” she promises with a small nod of her head, “I trust you. This was never about not trusting you, you know that, right?”

The grip of Chloe’s arms around Beca’s back loosens slightly, until her fingertips are brushing delicately over warm skin. “I do.” She pauses for a moment, hooded gaze studying Beca’s face. “How do you feel?”

Beca knows how she _should_ feel, how she has been taught to feel. Beca should feel sick, she should be disgusted with herself for everything that has transpired over the last little while, but those deeply rooted doubts seem to have dissipated beneath Chloe’s gentle touch, and they only do so further as she intently meets her curious gaze.

“I feel like… I’m glad we waited, but that this doesn’t feel wrong,” she says somewhat slowly, digesting her own words, the real sincerity to them, with great care. Chloe responds with a soft, genuine smile, and Beca continues in a quiet yet sure voice. “It feels right. You feel right, Chlo.” Beca tilts her face to brush her lips to Chloe’s, adding in a softer, more gentle voice, “You always have.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, [becasbelt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/becasbelt/pseuds/becasbelt), for the help with this one, and thank you, anon, for the prompt! Shoot more at me on [tumblr](http://chloebeale.tumblr.com).


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